Lucky One
by EriksAngeDeLaMusique
Summary: She had watched him perform, even as a young child. When Christine meets with Erik, years after he leaves the limelight, she comes to realize her idol is not all she thought he was. Will Christine be able to bring him back to the stage, or will he forever scorn the world? E/C. Modern.
1. Prologue

Hey, EriksAngeDeLaMusique here. This is a new fanfic I've been thinking a lot about. No, I'm not quitting my other story, My Protector, this is just a side project. I just had to write something about it! Anyway, tell me what you think, and if I should continue with this :) As for the title, I got the idea for this fanfic while listening to The Lucky One by Taylor Swift. To me, it has a really eerie feeling in the lyrics if you listen closely.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera. I mean, if I did, it would have ended much, much differently :) *squeezes Erik plushie*

**Prologue:**

**15 Years earlier**

A woman in her early thirties flipped through the channels on the television with a sigh. It was a content sigh, as she watched her daughter play with her dolls on the living room floor, and smelled dinner cooking. Her husband had offered to cook. It was a nice change. She was ready for a small break.

As she channel surfed, she heard a burst of music before she passed it. She flipped back hurriedly. When she settled on the right channel, her eyes lit up.

"Gustave! Gustave, come out here!" she called excitedly.

"What, Mama?" asked her daughter with her nose scrunched up adorably.

"Come here, Christine," the woman said softly. The six year old girl padded over to her mother, her doll in hand, and let herself be pulled onto the woman's lap. She fixed her doll's hair as her own dark brown curls were caressed by her mother.

"What are you yelling about, Mandy?" the woman's husband asked jovially as he entered the room.

"Kelly likes your apron, Papa," Christine giggled, waving her doll at her father.

Gustave Daaé smiled and tugged on his frilled pink apron. "Yes, your mother likes it as well. I think it suits me rather nicely, don't you agree?"

Christine giggled and looked at her mother as she shushed them with a soft smile.

"Look who's making another appearance," Mandy said.

They looked at the television. In a park, somewhere in New York City, a camera was capturing a performance. The man stood on stage, tall and thin, yet imposing, and every time his mouth opened it was like an angel was singing. The audience was silent, observing the man in awe. It was not your typical rock concert. Instead, the man was singing an aria from a popular opera. Of course, anyone who was a fan, such as the Daaé's, knew that the man could do any style, play any instrument, under the sun.

Christine watched the screen intently. She recognized this music. Her Mama and Papa played his music all the time. She tried to remember what his name was. As the camera zoomed in on him, she wondered briefly why he wore a mask. But what did it matter? His voice was pretty. Christine closed her eyes and leaned back against her Mama, letting the music envelop her.

"A musical prodigy," Mandy said in a hushed tone. "Absolutely amazing. You can't find music like this anymore."

"That kid is going to make it far," Gustave agreed.

"Kid?" said Mandy. "How old is he now?"

"About nineteen, I'd say," Gustave said. "I first heard him about September of last year."

"He's barely an adult," she said with surprise.

"He's going to be around for a long time."

"I do hope the media's not too harsh on him," said Mandy. "I've heard people pestering him about his mask, no matter how many times he says he doesn't want to talk about it. And you should hear some of the rumours. They're terrible! Whether it's a fashion thing, or something serious, they shouldn't bother him." She frowned. "He's only just a child."

Gustave patted his wife's shoulder. "It's what they do. I wouldn't be too worried, though. I saw him being interviewed. It was a big thing, since he rarely let's any of those reporters talk to him. They tried to ask him about where he's from, and he refused to answer. They asked about his mask, and he told them not to ask anything if it has nothing to do with the music. They wouldn't stop, so he just got up and left the whole interview." Gustave chuckled a bit at the memory. It was wrong what had happened, but the boy had pluck, that was for sure.

"Still," said Mandy, biting her lip.

"He can fend for himself, dear," said Gustave. The stove in the kitchen began to beep and Gustave hurried away.

Mandy glanced at their vast collection of music in a shelf along the wall. For having just started out, the man, Erik Destler, had certainly done well. She already owned two albums and a number of singles by him. He wasn't like the typical young singers, and maybe that's what drew attention. Who was she kidding? No matter how talented he was, no matter how original he was, it would always come back to his mask.

She stroked Christine's hair and watched the video, smiling a bit as she watched him. The passion in his words and the ecstasy on his face reminded her of when she and Gustave performed. They had gotten nowhere near as popular as Erik, but they had enjoyed their small run. It was for the enjoyment, and she enjoyed the work she had now. Still, sometimes she wondered what would have happened if they had become popular, selling concerts and albums.

That morning Christine had been singing as she played with her doll-what was her name this week? Oh, right, Kelly. Mandy had to admit her daughter was already talented, and in love with music. Mandy had started teaching her a bit of piano and singing. Maybe she would think about getting a real teacher for her.

Little Christine, her brown eyes shut peacefully, was unaware of the hopes and dreams her mother had for her. No, she was happy to just listen to the music man. It made her want to sing along. Compared to him, she would sound terrible, but maybe she would get better.

Gustave called his small, musical family to dinner. Christine quickly forgot her previous thoughts and raced into the kitchen, dragging over a stool for Kelly to sit on beside her. Mandy left the television on so they could still hear him, even if they couldn't see him.

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After the show, a man dressed impeccably with a fedora tilted over his head bowed for his audience, thanking them for coming to see him, and then left the stage, grabbing a bottle of water from backstage. He tried to lengthen the amount of time he spent getting ready to go home, but he didn't have much to prepare. The only part he didn't like about performing was the annoying, reporters who tried to pry into his affairs. He could not avoid them, he knew, but it was rather annoying. _Why couldn't they just leave him alone? _

He slipped outside and was immediately ambushed by fans. He signed a few pieces of paper, an arm or two, without trying to look aggravated. He appreciated these people, to an extent. They liked his music! How could he have made it anywhere without them? And yet, people annoyed him greatly. With their questions, and stares, and damnable curiosity! They knew nothing about him, they had no right to ask questions, or give him strange looks. He was lucky most people had come to the conclusion his mask was some sort of statement. Of course, he knew they would. No matter how ridiculous, people would always come to a conclusion. They would also constantly try to find out the truth, but what else could be done?

"Hello, Mr. Destler, would you like to answer some questions for your fans?" asked a blonde woman, sticking a microphone in his face.

"Not particularly," Erik said, walking past her. Most people had cleared a while ago. He refused photographs, and yet, people still got them. How he hated it!

Maybe, for once, it wasn't the world's fault he was in such a bad mood. There had been a number of people pestering him about his mask that week, more so than usual. It put him on edge.

The woman followed after him. "How come you have done barely any interviews? With your popularity, you must have gotten plenty of offers! Any other rising star would love the attention and media-"

Erik whirled around. "I do not care for the popularity, or for the media. You are aggravating me. Go away."

The reporter pursed her ruby red lips.

Erik sighed. He didn't want to talk to this woman, he _really _didn't, but he didn't want to appear ungrateful. That was the only reason. He didn't feel very sorry. It served her right for trying to suck information out of him, like a leech. "I do apologize," Erik lied smoothly. "I have quite the headache at the moment. About the interviews, I prefer to keep to myself."

The woman perked up immediately. "It makes you very mysterious. People love that!" she chirped.

"Yes," he said coolly, walking towards the parking lot. She continued to follow him.

"Perhaps when you're feeling better, we could arrange another interview, maybe over dinner?" she asked, looking at him under her eyelashes, attempting to look alluring.

Erik already had the door of his limo opened. He grimaced, and then smirked as he turned to face her. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

Her smile quickly changed into a gape. She had probably never been told such a thing in her life. She scowled, stomped one shiny, leather, white boot, and stalked away, tossing her hair over her shoulder.

With a smile of satisfaction, Erik climbed into the limo. Inside, it was upholstered in leather. It was nothing too fancy. Erik didn't care for that kind of thing. As the limo pulled out of the parking lot, Erik turned to face a dark skinned man in fine suit, sitting opposite him.

"Hello, Nadir. How are you?" he asked.

Nadir frowned. "What did you say to her, Erik?"

Erik shrugged. "Nothing that a spoiled child wouldn't need to hear."

Nadir closed his eyes, as if every conversation with Erik made him wonder how the boy became so popular. "Erik, you do realize that every word you tell someone can make you more popular or ruin your career?"

"I'd be fine if people quit snooping into my affairs."

"Try to act civilize in public, alright, Erik? Just try?"

"Maybe," was all the masked man had to say.

Nadir shook his head. The boy stared out the tinted window as they passed through the city. Nadir knew there were plenty more reasons for the boy's rude behaviour. One, being that he hated performing in the daylight. He preferred the night, where he could slip out unnoticed. Nadir had never had such a strange client before. Heck, he'd never met a person such as Erik before. Nadir was, quite likely, the only one besides the boy's own parents who knew what was under his mask, and was quite likely the only other one who'd ever see it. Unlike his parents, however, Nadir was the only one who had come close to accepting what was under the mask, and again, was likely the only one who ever would. It was a sad fate Nadir wished on no one, but the boy didn't seem to care all that much. He noticed, of course, but it didn't seem to affect him. Unlike other boys his age, he had never liked what they did. Never displayed an interest outside of his books or music. The kid was a genius, for certain. He had never dated, never seemed interested. It was all about the music.

Nadir knew that should make him ecstatic. He was a manager of a huge music producing company, with one of the most popular and talented performers who ever lived, and didn't seem to have a care for anything else. But Nadir had almost a fatherly concern over the boy, he always had. And he worried for him. But what was there to do? He couldn't tell the boy what to do, not that he'd listen, and he couldn't tell people to stop being curious. Nadir just hoped that they didn't push him too far.

Erik watched the city pass outside, wondering what he was going to do about the insatiable curiosity of the country, oblivious to the dreams of music he was inspiring in a young girl, miles and miles away.

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So...do you like it? Should I quit while I'm ahead? Tell me what you think in a review :) If I continue, this will likely not be updated as often as my other one, since I started it first. Also, the chapters will be longer. This is just the prologue. :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the reviews! I am glad to know some people want me to continue with this story. I am not completely certain of where it is going, but I do have a main idea for it. I hope you like this chapter :)  
**

Chapter 1

Christine Daaé hummed softly as she strode along the campus grounds, her book bag thumping against her hip with every step. The young woman of 21 appeared to be on cloud nine, as she seemed to bounce as she walked, and her brown eyes sparkled as they took in the world around her. It was one of those perfect days, when the sun was shining, the sky was blue and cloudless, and it was warm enough not to be cool, but not _too_ warm out either. It was like a rainbow after a storm. Likely, the positive attitude amongst everyone in town was that day had been the first day it hadn't rained or stormed in a week. Summer was coming quickly, and the soon-to-be-graduates were stuck between panicking about finals and finding jobs, and celebrating that it was all over. Christine was not one of them, and watching friends fret and stress over it, she didn't particularly envy them.

Personally, she would have been in a good mood, anyway. She was going home to her Mama and Papa, and later Raoul would come over to have dinner. It always made her feel warm and safe when they all spent time together, her boyfriend and her parents. Raoul was more than she deserved, she knew, and sometimes she expected him to get up and leave. He wouldn't. He was her saviour and the only person she felt safe with.

Two years ago she found out her Papa had cancer. Her Mama had been unresponsive for weeks, and Christine felt lost and alone. Not to mention guilty. So much, in fact, that she skipped the year that was to be her first year of college, to stay home with her parents. She wanted to be there with Papa at all times, and she needed to make sure her mother was going to be okay, too. In the end, most things worked out. Her Papa still had cancer, but he was fighting it, and Mama was fighting along as well. Plus, Raoul was there, helping as much as he could, and offering support.

She replaced the frown that had appeared on her face with a content smile. Everything was alright now. It had to be. A few minutes earlier, her classmates had been congratulating her for earning a spot in a special performance. For some of the recitals she had to audition, and others were to showcase what the students had been learning. This time it was the former. It was hard to get a spot, and Christine felt like she had done her best. She was nervous about her parents and Raoul coming to watch, but she was excited too. She could show them she was doing something worthwhile.

After twenty minutes a brick house came into view. It wasn't big, though it looked big compared to the small houses on either side of it. Daisies, petunias, and other pretty flowers sat happily by the sidewalks in flower beds. More were planted in yellow window boxes. It gave the house a pleasant and homey appearance. Christine ran up and unlocked the door.

Her footsteps thudded on the clean floors. Her parents wouldn't be home for a while. Her mother was an elementary school teacher for a class of grade two's that Christine had heard much about over the course of the year, and her father was an accountant. At the earliest, her mother would be back in an hour, and her father, a while after that.

Christine sighed. She really didn't want to start on the work she had, and besides, she had a few days before it was due. Still, trying to be responsible, she grudgingly took out her textbook and got to work.

Several pages later, a hand brushed her shoulder.

She jumped, sending her textbook flying onto the floor and her papers scattering. She glanced over her shoulder. "Hi, Mama."

Mandy Daaé gave her daughter an inquisitive look. "My, someone's on edge." She helped her collect the papers that were covered in hastily scrawled words.

"No. I was just in the middle of working," said Christine.

"What is this? _Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky?_" She read easily from the top of a paper.

"Just one of my assignments," said Christine, gathering it with the rest of her work. "For my music history class. He was the one who composed the music for The Nutcracker, and Swan Lake-"

"I know who he is," said her mother, good naturedly.

Christine straightened the papers and put them into a neat pile, beside her closed textbook. She yawned widely. "Sorry, Mama."

Mandy's brow furrowed. "How long have you been staying up? Have you been tired in class?"

"I'm fine, Mama. Just a bit sleepy," explained Christine. "The year will be over soon, so everyone is getting ready for finals."

"When will Raoul be over?" asked Mandy.

"In an hour, probably," said Christine, looking at the clock.

"What should we have for dinner?" asked her mother. They decided on spaghetti, a unanimous favourite among the household, and quickly got to work preparing it. They casually spoke about current affairs and the news. They were unassuming topics that one can speak about without really thinking, which both mother and daughter appreciated after a day of work. As Christine chopped peppers for the sauce, for the second time, a hand landed on her shoulder.

Christine started and spun around, the knife still clutched in her hand.

A handsome man with bright blue eyes backed up, his arms raised in surrender. "Woah! I swear I'm innocent."

She laughed as her heart resumed its normal pace, and placed the knife on the cutting board. "I guess you can go free. This time."

"And if I don't want to?" he challenged, his perfect teeth glinting.

Christine blushed. She hated confrontation, and it didn't help that he always made her forget what she was going to say. "You're mean. I could have cut my wrist off," she changed the subject.

"I wouldn't have let that happen," he said, smiling.

"Like you could control it."

"Now you're making me feel bad," he said with a laugh.

"Good," said Christine, turning around, hiding her smile.

A large hand closed around her tiny wrist, stopping her from chopping.

"We can't have you doing something so dangerous," said Raoul.

"I think I'll manage," she said laughing, trying to pull her wrist away to no avail.

"How about you finish your homework?" he said with a raised eyebrow.

She blushed. "But-"

"That's a wonderful idea, Raoul," said Christine's mother, with a smirk on her face. "You still had some work left when you started helping me."

"Alright," Christine sighed, knowing she wouldn't win that argument. She gave the knife to a grinning Raoul, and gathered up her notebooks, opened her textbooks, and dove back into her work where she had left off.

Sooner than she had expected, Raoul was calling her back to reality. Words swam in her vision as she looked up from her papers. Her mother and father were taking out plates of food to the dining room. Raoul stood in front of her with an amused smile on his face.

"Miss Maestro, your presence is requested," he said.

Christine laughed, putting her books away and accompanying Raoul to the dining room. "Why didn't you ask me to help?" she said, feeling guilty. When she really got into things, especially music, she never noticed the things going on around her. It was like she was in her own little bubble. The house could be up in flames, or the rest of humanity had suddenly dropped dead, and she wouldn't notice.

"You looked busy, sweetheart," said her mother as they all sat down. "We didn't want to pull you from your work."

"Thank you," she said. "I think I am almost done. That assignment, at least."

"Sometimes I think they give you kids too much work," said her father. "I wonder how many times you've come home with schoolwork keeping you up until the early hours of the morning."

"It's alright, Papa," said Christine. "I'm learning and I enjoy it. Besides, the semester's almost over, and then I only have one more year to go."

"Thank goodness," he said.

"Why? Are you tired of me yet?" she teased.

"Tired of you? Never," he smiled. "Now how was your day?"

She giggled at his change in topics. "It was great! Madame Valerius told me that I got a part in that concert I was telling you about! I had to audition and everything."

"That's wonderful," said Mama, looking proudly at her little girl.

"Well, it was more likely I would get it because I'm a year from graduating, and they pick more people for the amount of years they have been taking the course," said Christine, her face turning pink.

"Don't be modest," protested Raoul. "There's only about-how many?-maybe ten people who got in."

She blushed even more brightly.

Papa grinned. "That's my girl! A star!"

"Oh, Papa," smiled Christine. "Anyway, how was your day, Raoul?"

They launched into a cheerful discussion of the day's events, and Christine was more than happy to move on from talking about her performance. It's not that she wasn't excited, but her nerves often overtook the excitement. She hoped the more she performed, the more her excitement would outweigh her nerves. So far it hasn't happened yet, but she would keep trying.

After they cleared away dinner, Christine and Raoul excused themselves to go for a walk. It was still quite light out at seven. Summer was approaching.

"I can't believe I'm one year from graduating," mused Christine as they strolled through a nearby park. "It's happened so fast."

"And I still have two," sighed Raoul. "I'll be stuck here at school while you're off performing somewhere else."

Christine couldn't bear the thought. Raoul, her rock, her saviour…not with her? "No. Never, Raoul. I could stay here with you." And she would. Anything to keep him.

"I don't want you to give up what you love, Christine," he said, as they sat down on a park bench. "I know you wouldn't be happy, don't say otherwise."

Christine bit her lip guiltily.

"But that doesn't mean I won't miss you," he said, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Sometimes I wish I could keep you all to myself."

She rested her head on his shoulder. "Please, Raoul, it will take me years to even get the smallest line, much less travel to any big stage. So I'll stay here with you."

He was quiet for a few minutes. "You could stay with me forever," he said softly.

"What?" she asked, turning to face him.

"I know we both agreed to take things slow, but we already spend so much time together. You wouldn't be too far from your parents or the college," he shook his head, laughing slightly. "What I'm trying to ask, is, would you want to move in with me?"

"In your apartment?" she asked, trying to process her thoughts.

"Yes, just outside campus. We could visit your parents every day if you wanted. You don't have to-"

She threw her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. "It sounds wonderful, Raoul!"

"Good!" He grinned and kissed her. "We can start moving you in tomorrow, Lotte."

Christine sighed contentedly as she rested against his chest. They sat in comfortable silence as the sky continued to darken.

Late that night, Raoul left for his apartment after they shared their news of Christine moving in with him to her parents. They were delighted, of course, and after Raoul left, Christine bid goodnight to her parents as she walked to her room to call Meg. Christine had the same room since she was a little girl, and it showed. Porcelain dolls stood in a row on the top of her shelf. A teddy bear lay on her neatly made bed, amongst the frilly pillows. Perhaps it looked like the room of a five year old, but she had never wanted to change it. Her room reminded her of who she was, and that life always continued on no matter what happened. Maybe that was too deep a philosophy to get from a small, pink, girly room. Christine shrugged and grabbed her phone from where it was charging on her bedside table, and dialed her best friend, Meg Giry.

Meg picked up immediately, and when Christine shared her news, she started squealing. Christine could picture her jumping up and down on her bed as they used to do as children. The memory made her laugh softly.

"Calm down, Meg. I'm just moving in; it's not like we're getting married," she said, not being able to stop a smile from spreading across her face.

"I know, but isn't that, like, the first step?" asked Meg. "First you move in, then during one of those romantic evenings out on a walk-BAM!-you're engaged," she said. Christine almost dropped the phone at Meg's sound affect. When she put it back to her ear, Meg was still chattering.

"No, wait. He can't do that one because that's how he asked you to move in! He already played that card. Oh, well, it's overdone anyway, right, Chris?"

"Sure, Meg," she said. Really, maybe cheesy lines weren't her thing, but she always loved those romantic movies, and always hoped something like that would happen to her. With Raoul, she could see it happening. Who else would ask her to move in during a moonlit stroll? And he probably did without thinking, too, being a true romantic.

"Anyway, my Mom's getting angry because I have dance early tomorrow morning." Christine could almost hear Meg rolling her eyes. Her Mom was often easygoing until it came to Meg's ballet classes. She turned ballet class into boot camp.

"Well, I guess I shouldn't keep, or else your mother will come and track me down," sighed Christine dramatically.

"Probably. See you tomorrow, Prima Donna," chirped Meg and she hung up the phone.

"Bye," Christine said into the dead line, a smile evident in her voice. She tossed her phone onto her pillow and looked around the room. This would be the last time she would sleep in her room.

A thrill of excitement and nerves shot through her stomach. Would Raoul expect her to sleep in the same bed as him? They had fallen asleep on the couch together, after a movie late at night, but it wasn't the same thing. What else was she expecting? Raoul to sleep on the couch? No, this is what normal couples did. She smiled at thought of his handsome face that night, worried she wouldn't agree to move in. The idea of Raoul not knowing what to do made her giggle. Sometimes he sounded like he was contradicting himself, trying to get his point across while also trying not to hurt her feelings. He treated her like glass, but she didn't mind. He was the one who had put the pieces back together in the first place.

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Nadir drove quickly along the deserted road. He was typically a man who abided by the law, including driving at an appropriate speed limit, but this area gave him a paranoid feeling, like he was being watched. For all he knew, he probably was, by a familiar, yet, cold, pair of eyes. He tried to pay attention to the dark road, ignoring the sensation of his every move being calculated. It was disconcerting, to say the least, and he reminded himself by now he should be used to it.

The trees surrounding the forgotten road seemed to watch him menacingly, their branches curled like skeletal fingers. Nadir shook his head. He was a grown man! He should be able to drive through the sinister forest without whimpering like a little girl. For the same reason, he should have been able to ask for them to meet under more comfortable surroundings. For the love of Allah, he could not understand why his comrade had picked an area for his home that was so dark and secluded. Well, actually, he could, but he preferred not to know, and pretended it to be a feature of an eccentric personality, for the boy had plenty of that.

After an hour, driving further and further into the forest, it suddenly opened up, revealing a clearing, and, within, a dark mansion. Nadir parked his car and looked up at the building, suppressing a shiver. His friend was something out of a horror movie, and Nadir feared that the boy had started to like it.

Taking a gulp of air, Nadir marched forward down the stone walk, towards the looming manor. He stood in front of the large double door, hesitating to touch the brass, lion head knocker, to enter this dark home of the past once more, knowing fully well in the end he would. Deciding that his presence was already known to the occupant inside, he knocked and heard the sound echo throughout the forest. He pushed open the heavy door, because the master of the house would likely never open it. Nadir was sure the boy enjoyed watching him squirm.

The door resounded as it shut behind him, and Nadir stood in the dim light of the entryway. He was faintly reminded of a castle. His companion had always enjoyed the medieval era when he was younger, especially the portcullis, decapitation, and other gruesome means of defense and execution. Nadir was certain he would find many of those weapons of the boy's childhood imagination and even his own contraptions hidden in the building, and uneasily searched the ceiling.

"Nadir, what a surprise," said a dark, melodic voice from the shadows.

"Erik," said Nadir, squinting and trying to look for the shape of a man in the dark. It was no use; the boy was a master of shadows, illusions, and trickery. He was a menacing magician. He could manipulate everything around him, including his voice. He could be right beside Nadir or in the tallest tower, and yes, the mansion had towers, and Nadir would never know.

"I know you were watching me, Erik," called Nadir. "Turn on the lights, not everyone has the ability to see in the dark, and when you get to my age, you lose your ability to see in the light, too." His light attempt at a joke had no effect on his friend, as did his accusation of Erik watching him.

"Oh, Nadir, you are a paranoid man," said Erik. A torch lit up in his friend's ghostly hand. It gave off little light or heat. The walls had very poor insulation, and Nadir doubted Erik ever turned the heat on. It was absolutely freezing.

"Why should I want to watch you, my conceited, suspicious comrade?" asked Erik.

"Because you're more paranoid than you accuse me of being. I will not bring anyone with me, and I will never tell a soul of this place. Yet, you insist on ridiculous precautions. Have I not proven myself loyal?" asked Nadir, annoyed. Never would he ever be able to convince Erik from meddling in his business, but he could put up an argument.

"Yes, yes, you promised you would never tell. Shall we pinkie swear on it?"

Nadir grimaced. "Do not mock me, Erik. Now, I've had enough of this ludicrous questioning of yours. Why did you call me here?" It had been bothering Nadir since he had gotten the phone call from his friend two days ago. The message had simply been, "You will come and meet me," spoken in Erik's typical emotionless tone, then the boy had hung up, leaving Nadir panicking. What had possessed his friend to call him? It was always the other way around. The call had nearly given him a heart attack, for there would have to be something seriously wrong for Erik to come to Nadir.

"Let us sit, Nadir," said Erik, waking away with the only source of light.

In aggravation, Nadir submissively followed along, barely able to see the outline of the tall menacing man. He remembered when the boy had just hit the brink of becoming famous. He was almost twenty, and Nadir was nearly thirty. They were a good decade apart, but Erik had always insisted on making himself seem older and more in charge. He rather reminded Nadir of a cat. A vicious, mangy cat, that when you tried to do things your way, it puffed up into a hissing, large ball of fur, trying to appear more dangerous than he really was. However, Nadir knew Erik was dangerous, and was careful not to step too close.

They walked several minutes through dank, dark hallways, with one or two pictures along the way. Nadir wondered how the man in front of him lived in this cave, and remembered how as a child he had lived locked in the attic. Perhaps some things run too deep to be forgotten.

Finally, Erik led them to a small sitting room. As he entered, Erik flipped on a light switch, illuminating the entire room so brightly that Nadir had to shield his eyes. He stumbled into a leather arm chair, as Erik laid the torch on the mantel above the fireplace, and lit the fire. Nadir knew this was for his benefit, and was grateful. Erik took the chair across from him, sitting straight and silent.

Nadir was used to Erik's penetrating gaze, and instead focused upon the fire's shadow, dancing across the stone floors. There was a large contrast between the medieval structure of the building and the modern furniture that Nadir always found odd. He knew that there was a laptop somewhere, as well as Erik's cell phone. Nadir doubted Erik used it unless it was to call him. Nadir looked upon his friend, feeling sympathy he made sure didn't show on his face, for the man he was the only friend of. And when it came down to it, Nadir was sure Erik was his only friend. He turned his eyes to the dark shadow that was staring at him.

"How is the business coming along?" asked Erik.

Nadir sighed, but knew Erik would only talk when he was ready, whether that was in an hour, or in a few days. He only hoped it was within the week. "It is fine, Erik. We have some new talent you may like to listen to." Erik would often ask about the business he was once a part of, and Nadir hoped it was a sign that Erik was ready to return to civilization, but it never was. He would always suggest Erik listen to the performers they had, trying to get him involved. Erik had never agreed, saying it was not his job, and he'd rather not listen to track after track of wailing infants.

"Do not be ridiculous, Nadir," scowled Erik. "There is no such thing as 'new talent' anymore. It is all about auto tune, and appearances."

"Maybe you could change that," tried Nadir.

"Desist in your attempts to bring me back into society, for I no longer want to be a part of it."

"I know, Erik," said Nadir, giving up. He had not believed it would work, but was he supposed accept that the boy would live out the rest of his life isolated in this dungeon? He seemed adamant about it.

"How is your intern? Damian, was his name?"

"Darius," said Nadir. "Erik, you know fully well what his name was. Do not be bitter, I offered you the job and you turned it down."

"I am bitter about many things, Nadir, but being your servant is not one of those things."

"He is not my servant, he is my assistant. He helps me organize recording sessions, and is doing so well to help me find new talent."

"So he is failing," stated Erik.

Nadir had to agree that music nowadays wasn't what it used to be, yet he was also biased. One could not believe anyone else was talented in the art of music after hearing Erik. This was why Nadir could have died on the spot when Erik quit and left.

"He is thriving with the industry as it currently is," said Nadir.

"I see. You are resigning to be like every other recording company that produces performers that are exactly alike with no talent whatsoever."

"They have talent," he argued.

"They can hit a high C without sounding like a siren, bravo, it is quite the accomplishment."

Nadir stayed silent, letting Erik carry on with his insults.

"Few are passable, Nadir, and even less would not hurt my ears if I was punished with having to listen to them."

"That is because you demand perfection."

"Is that so wrong?"

"No one is perfect," said Nadir, and regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

Erik leaned forward, so the light from the fire reflected off the black, porcelain mask covering his face. "I am quite aware of that, Nadir, but thank you for the reminder. It was so kind of you."

"I did not mean…_that_, Erik, and you know very well, I didn't." No wonder Nadir had not been able to see his friend. Cloaked in black with that stone mask, he disappeared into the shadows completely.

"Perhaps."

"Now, can we please stop this foolish small talk and move on to why you called me, out of the blue, to come down here to see you, without an explanation?"

"I thought people liked small talk," said Erik, ignoring his request. "Most conversation is small talk that means nothing, and will not be remembered the next day."

"It is usually enjoyable."

"And you do not enjoy speaking to me, Nadir? How that pains me."

"Erik," said Nadir, feeling more frustrated than ever. "If you do not wish to discuss the means of this impulsive meeting, then can you please show me to where I am to be staying?"

The masked man stared at him for a few long minutes, and Nadir willed himself not to look away from those dark, merciless eyes. Erik was the child, and Nadir was the adult. So, why was it that Erik often made him feel like a disobedient student?

"Very well," said Erik at last. "You may go get your things and I will show you to your room upstairs."

Nadir stood up, feeling both relieved and anxious. He would not have to endure Erik's ridicule or calculating looks, but he desperately wanted to know what his associate had to say.

As he walked to his car, Nadir felt that same discerning stare on his back, from the window of the mansion. He turned around, and could barely see the eyes, watching him. Nadir shivered. It was the look of a man welcoming him back to the house of nightmares, of deceptions and deceit, of talent and poise, of madness and passion. A house of the past, belonging to a man who will never forget.

**Good, bad, what do you think? I'd like to read what you have to say in a review :)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here it is: chapter 2! Hope you enjoy! :) **

Chapter 2

The next few days passed in a blur for Christine. Between going to classes, moving into Raoul's apartment, and getting ready for her next performance, she was sure her schedule could not get any fuller. As she brushed her hair, she could hear the sound of Raoul's razor as he shaved in the bathroom. The first night had been awkward, but Raoul was such a gentleman. He possessed the rare gift of always knowing what to do.

Christine had blushed when he announced it was getting late. Here was the time she had not stopped thinking about since he asked her to move in. Maybe it shouldn't have been as momentous as it seemed to her, but she had never been so serious with a guy before. In the past, she had maybe one or two relationships, and both were brief, where she knew by the end that it wouldn't last. Seeing Christine so distressed in the situation, worried that she would do the wrong thing, Raoul had kissed her on the head, and told her that they would only share a bed when she was comfortable with it, in all sense of the word. Right now, she stuck with the literal sense, feeling as though she had climbed a mountain to get to that step in their relationship, and not thinking any further at that moment.

It had been embarrassing then, but now Christine giggled at herself as she applied the last coat of mascara. Together, she and Raoul got their school books and whatever else they needed, and headed out to the car. In the passenger seat, as she waited for Raoul to put the key in the ignition, Christine looked up at the house, that was now part hers. Raoul lived in the richer side of town. Here grand houses dominated the road, and people who were not from the area slowed down just to look at them all. They were not mansions, but they were fairly large, and an air of high society seemed to say the house owners could have mansions if they wanted. Christine knew Raoul's parents owned one, as well as a summer mansion, and one up North. She was pretty sure they had a large house in Europe, as well. Christine was just fine with having an average house, and Raoul's was a few steps up even from that.

The five bedroom house was one of the larger houses around. Besides their bedroom, Raoul had a room he used as a study, another for an exercise room, a guest room, and a room he gave to Christine for her own personal use. She used it partly as a study, and also as a music room. She wondered how lonely the large house must have been before, when there was not another person occupying it. She knew Raoul had other girlfriends before they had started dating two years ago, as she was not the only one to notice Raoul's kindness, intelligence, and attractiveness. She didn't think that those girls had ever moved in, though, and knowing she was the first, and hopefully, the last, gave her butterflies and a wide smile.

Raoul flashed her a grin as he started the car and pulled out of the driveway. They cruised along the roads to the University, and Christine looked out the window at the large houses. She had only lived with Raoul for a short time, and hadn't lived amongst the grandeur houses as he had. Her eyes opened in awe as she passed them, as they did every time. She guessed most of them had maids and cooks. Raoul had neither, explaining he didn't want strangers in his house, and he could do the work himself.

He pulled up alongside the curb of the entrance to the arts sector. Christine leaned over, gave him a quick peck, and said goodbye, laughing as he dramatically put on a pair of dark shades. The car pulled away, and Christine ran her hands over her light blue sundress, enjoying the light, cottony feeling in the summer heat. She smiled as she entered the building, heading towards her first class.

As she donned her ballet slippers, Christine wished Meg was in her class. She got along with everyone for the most part, except for one snobbish girl named Carlotta, but she still wished her best friend could be with her. Christine got up and, while chattering with a brunette named Carissa, began to warm up. She laughed as Carissa complained about their acting teacher, and felt that today would be a good day.

That night, Raoul and Christine ate at Raoul's parents' house. Christine nervously waited as Raoul knocked on the door, licking the edge of her teeth to make sure there wasn't any lipstick on them.

The huge house was larger than she remembered. Three stories with a sprawling yard, the house would definitely be classified as a mansion. Christine noted the perfect gardens and shrubbery. They were taken care of by the gardener. One of the first things she noticed about houses was the gardens. She loved the beautiful flowers that could bring even the most old-fashioned, dull houses to life.

Christine heard footsteps, and Mrs. De Chagny opened the door with a smile. "Come on in, you two. Phillipe and Sorelli have already arrived."

"I hope we aren't too late," said Christine, trying to hide her worry. Raoul's family was just so regal and proper, and she often felt like she was beneath them.

"Not at all," Mrs. De Chagny said. She led them to the sitting room, where Raoul's older brother, Phillipe's wife Sorelli, and Mr. de Chagny were seated. Upon Christine and Raoul's entering the room, everyone stood up to greet them.

"Wonderful to see you again," said Phillipe, taking Christine's hand a placing a quick kiss on the back of it. He gave her a teasing wink as he pulled away. Christine shook her head with a small laugh as Sorelli rolled her eyes, smiling, and Raoul snorted.

"It's wonderful to see you, Christine," Sorelli said truthfully. "Even if it means to see my husband flirting with you."

Phillipe made a sound of indignation, and Sorelli gave him a brief, joking smile over her shoulder.

"I love your dress, Sorelli," said Christine. "It looks amazing on you."

"Thank you, dear. You look beautiful as well."

Christine blushed and glanced down at her own dress. Sorelli's dress was a strapless, deep red that suited her personality and Christine knew she herself could never wear. Christine's dress was a modest green, with a sweetheart neckline she adored and a fuller skirt than what was common. She had always loved old-fashioned things, especially the clothing. She wished she could go about walking in those full skirts and cloaks of the old days.

"Enough with all the small talk," said Mr. de Chagny good-naturedly. He stepped out so he was in front of Christine. "Let me have a look at you, miss."

Christine smiled shyly at Mr. de Changy. Wealthy, handsome, and with quite some fame to his name, she knew he could make many women swoon. However, Christine was definitely not one of those women, though she could still his attractiveness for what it was. Christine thought he was intimidating, but so very kind as well.

"My, my, you look as lovely as you do every day, miss Christine," he said, making Christine laugh. Mr. de Chagny had always referred to her as "miss Christine". For what reason, she didn't know, but it made her feel closer to the whole family.

"Thank you," she smiled. "You're looking well, too."

"Well? That's all I get?" he joked.

"Very handsome, really," Christine laughed. "Like Adonis."

The others laughed and Mr. de Chagny grinned. "I always liked you."

This caused everyone to break out in more laughter, and somehow Mrs. De Chagny managed to herd them all to the table, where the cook had made a huge dinner fit for royalty.

00000000000

Nadir could still not understand for the life of him why Erik would not discuss his reasons for bringing him out there. The boy was still a stubborn child. Had it been for the attention? No, that was very unlike Erik. For most of the year he went without communication or civilization of any sort. It worried Nadir, who did care for the boy in a strange way, reminiscent of their odd friendship. However, Erik never seemed to need any interaction, unlike the rest of humanity. He preferred being on his own so Nadir often left him to his own devices. Then why had Erik called him?

The masked man had been acting strangely, therefore, no different than he had ever been. Late at night, and sometimes during the day when he locked himself away, Nadir could hear the most beautiful music known to man. His music was all-consuming, capturing the listener, and, when it was over, leaving their body no more than a shell. His music was rage, though, and could make the calmest of men desire to cause a brawl, and the strongest of men to break down in tears. Sometimes, particularly at night when he could only stay in his room for his uneasiness of the dark, morbid castle, Nadir would attempt to block it out. It rarely worked. In the morning, Nadir would try to escape to the outdoors, and on the rare occasion he came upon an exit, he found that outside was almost as disturbing as the castle. The trees, which by this time, so late in May, should be covered with lush, green leaves, still stood bare. They created a dark forest surrounding the property, like a forbidden wood. The grass was brown and dead, showing that the sun did reach the area. The only plants in full bloom and obviously well taken care of were the roses. Highly maintained gardens of white and red roses were the only things of pure beauty for miles. Nadir could not understand how Erik cared for the precious, delicate flowers. It was unexpected of him, and showed a gentler, more humane and emotional side of Erik that Nadir knew he would never see otherwise.

Of course, if Nadir ever mentioned that, he knew he would quite likely find himself being caught by a Punjab lasso, some strange thing the boy had learned on many of his travels. It was as chilling as Erik's interest in medieval torture devices, but he chose to pretend he didn't know of it.

Nadir parked his car by the side of the road. It had taken him an hour of driving along the deserted stretch to find a signal for his phone, and it was a weak one at that. He wouldn't have bothered, except only today he had realized that he hadn't taken any calls, and the people at work were probably trying to reach him, even if he had explained he would be on an absence. He hadn't been doing anything, merely trying to read a novel, as Erik had disappeared somewhere, hoping that when Erik came back he'd be ready to tell him. Show and tell had never been Erik's favourite class as a child.

So, leaving a note he doubted Erik would read, he hopped in his car and drove down the lane, only breathing in relief when some of the deadened trees were replaced with green-leaved ones.

Turning on his phone in a hurry, Nadir saw that he had 415 messages in his email account inbox, 20 missed texts, and 32 missed calls. Quickly, Nadir called the company, knowing most of the reasons for the calls had been over minor details he could go over once he got back, if he got back. Still, he needed to be sure.

Darius was the first person Nadir called. "Hello, Mr. Khan," Darius said confidently, happy to finally hear from his boss.

"Hello, Darius," said Nadir amiably. "Is there a specific reason you called, 18 times?"

Darius laughed. "No, no, we've got everything covered here, sir, ready for when you get back. And that would be?"

Nadir sighed. "I'm not exactly sure. I'm with a…an ailing relative, and we're taking it day by day." Nadir detested lying, but it was unavoidable. What else was he to say? I'm locked in a castle with my masked friend, also known as the legendary Erik Destler. Yeah, he called me up for some reason, so I drove for hours out here, and I'm staying until he tells me what's wrong, which could be months. Yup, that would work well.

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Darius, and Nadir felt guilty when he heard the truly sympathetic tone in Darius' voice. He was not only a good worker, but also a caring and compassionate person. The only reason the boy had no sweetheart was his shyness. "I hope your relative gets better soon."

"Thank you, Darius. Now, was there anything else?" Nadir hoped he hadn't driven all this way for nothing.

"Well, sir, there are a few prospective clients, and some agents have contacted us. Nothing too big. And I was notified to tell you that Gaston Leroux is having a showcase for their singing department."

How could he have forgotten?! Gaston Leroux was Nadir's favourite University in the area for the performing arts, especially their amazing vocalists. Though not well known, Nadir thought it was even better than some of the popular schools. They only had these performances a few times a year, and Nadir enjoyed going, whether he picked up some new talent or not.

"Is it an open showcase?" Nadir asked. He needed to hear what Erik had to say, but he also felt it his duty to support the school. He decided he would only go if they had the selective showcase.

"No, sir, it is selective, and will be held at the end of next week. The open is not for another month, yet. They were wondering if you would like to book three tickets, as usual."

"Yes, if you don't mind, Darius. I would appreciate it." Well, that was that. He was going. Hopefully, Erik would not feel the need to share what he was going to say, the minute Nadir was ready to leave. Perhaps this time when he gave Erik his ticket, he would accompany him. That would be incredibly out of character, and true cause for worry. Nadir always bought three tickets to the performances. One for himself, another for Darius, and another he would send to Erik. Erik never did go, but Nadir continued sending with an empty hope that Erik would someday join civilization. He figured the best way for that was through music.

"Alright, sir, I'll get right to that. Is there anything else you need?"

Nadir cleared up a few minor matters that had been stirred up while he was gone, and after a few minutes he bid goodbye to Darius. Answering the numerous messages was a simple enough task, one that Nadir was used to. An hour and a half later he was satisfied with having taken care of everything, and proceeded to drive back to the castle, wondering how Erik would take his leaving. It was only for a little while. Erik had been almost entirely alone for the past decade and a half. He would be perfectly fine.

0000000000

After hours of banging out his frustrations on the keys of his gleaming organ, Erik abruptly stood up, knocking over the bench. It was time to take a break. Time to look for his guest.

Erik cursed himself for having invited the fool in a moment of ridiculous weakness. He hated feeling like a small child. But it had to be done. So here he was with a guest, not entirely sure what to do about it. Oh, he knew what to do about the situation. Just not what to do about Nadir. Erik knew the man would not leave until Erik had told him what had happened. And that was something he wished he wouldn't have to do.

Would Nadir miss him? Surely not. He would be glad to be rid of the monster that had plagued him since he first heard Erik play piano at the church in the dead of night. Erik still sometimes cursed himself for not having noticed the priest or Nadir hiding in the shadows like spies. If he had not been absorbed in his music, Erik knew he would have noticed them. But he hadn't, and this is where it led to.

Erik strode down the twisting hallways, his abnormal eyesight letting him see in the dark. Erik never questioned these abilities. When he was younger, his parents had called them talents. After the accident, though, they were powers the demon granted him.

He shook his head. He would not think of that time. There was plenty of time for reliving the torment later. Now, he had to find where Nadir had gone. Several times Erik had found him wandering around aimlessly, or searching for a bathroom or the door to his room. Often Erik would stay hidden in a secret passage or simply in shadows, and watch his companion make absolutely no progress. It was quite the comical sight.

Lastly, Erik had seen Nadir in the library amongst Erik's vast amount of novels. Erik doubted that Nadir had left, especially when he actually found the room he had been looking for, but who really knew what that ridiculous man was up to.

Upon entering the library, Erik found the fire had died down only to hot embers, and he saw a novel lying open on the couch. Beside it was a note. In his messy scrawl, Nadir had explained that he was going to find a signal for his cell phone, and would be back soon. Erik felt the urge to roll his eyes. He had a computer which he used once in a blue moon. Nadir could have used that if he had asked. Instead, he had wandered off, once again, and would most likely get lost in the woods.

Erik glanced at a clock. He didn't know how long ago Nadir had left, nor how long it would take him. If he was coming back. There was always the chance he was finally done with Erik and left. Erik didn't like how this made him feel. It would be just like everyone else. At some point, they all left. It would be no different.

With another look at the time, Erik decided if Nadir was not back in two hours, by the time it turned dark outside, he would go out searching for him. Only for the reason that questions would be asked if Nadir would not return, and only that.

As it was, within the hour Nadir returned. Erik had been playing his violin to a sweet melody, one of the few softer pieces of music he would play, when he heard the door opening. He was locked away in a stone room at the other side of the mansion, and yet he still heard the giant doors creak open. Erik finished the song, and got up, his ears leading him to Nadir's annoyingly loud footsteps. It was just another gift from the demon. He would have to remember to thank him when he arrived in Hell, Erik thought with a smirk.

Nadir stood in a hallway just off the foyer, obviously not knowing where to go. Erik stood for a moment watching him, enjoying the helpless look in his companion's face, and the dots of sweat on his brow. Eventually he tired of just watching, for Nadir was not particularly interesting, and stepped out of the shadows, giving Nadir a heart attack as usual.

"Hello, Erik," said Nadir calmly. To Nadir, Erik appeared as a dark shadow, for it was dark, and Erik had not bothered to turn on any of the lights in the estate.

"Good evening, Nadir. Did you clear up all you needed to?"

"Yes, thank you. What have you been up to?"

"What do you think?" asked Erik, tiring of the small talk, as usual. If there was nothing important to say, he'd rather not speak at all.

"Music, of course," said Nadir. "I will be leaving at the end of next week to attend a performance by a local university."

"Alright."

"I will only be gone for two days."

"I am not a child, Nadir. I do not need a babysitter. If you wish to leave, you may leave."

"Very well," said Nadir, looking a bit taken aback. "I have another ticket it you wish to accompany me."

"Why do you continue to give me tickets when several times I have expressed my lack of enthusiasm in watching children turn masterpieces to ruin on stage for everyone to hear? I will not accompany you, nor will I ever."

"It is simply in case you want to enjoy yourself instead of being locked in this dungeon," he said happily. "Now, should I begin supper, or shall you? I am famished."

**A/N: I did not see this coming, but somehow, this story has turned into a sort of Beauty and the Beast crossover. I hadn't planned that, and I'm not expecting to use plot points from Beauty and the Beast, but who knows? The stories have much in common, and I love Beauty and the Beast. I know this has been slow going so far, without much action, but I need a few chapters to set everything in motion. Sorry if there are people who wrote reviews that I didn't reply to. I probably planned to, then had to go do something else and forgot. I will remember next time :) **


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